I've been giving a lot of thought to why the Arrested Development joke above, where Michael finds a bag in the fridge marked 'DEAD DOVE Do Not Eat!' opens it, looks inside, winces, but then says "I don't know what I expected" is so funny (outside of how well it's played and shot), and I think I've got it: People have an unhelpful amount of difficulty processing unexpected information through any medium other than personal experience.
I've also been considering how much I may have overestimated people's desire to communicate with each other in general – or rather, be communicated to – and underestimated how much they might just rather be left to their own opinions, unruffled by information from other people, aliens, or pets. Here are some photographs of a man trying to teach a horse to count: Wilhelm Van Osten, whose work in the 1890's on or with "Clever Hans" spanned a number of moustaches...
Their story graces the Extra Material of Helen Zaltzman's ever excellent "The Allusionist" podcast, specifically the second of two episodes about science fiction author Mary Robinette Kowal's apparently successful attempts to establish more nuanced communication with her cat, Elsie, through an increasingly large number of "button boards" (as shown below). While aware that no experiment ever showed an animal to be dumber than we thought, I initially approached these episodes with scepticism, but by the time I was hearing about a cat forming compound words – attempting to summon a light's reflection on the ceiling by tapping the buttons for "laser" and "bird", say – I was asking myself, My God, why doesn't every pet owner have one of these?
And it was this question which led me to consider that, maybe, people would just rather not know what other beings are thinking. Does any of this have anything to do with "Jonah Non Grata"? Not really, which is why I'm posting it. You guys deserve a break. For the record though, I feel that that night at Soho turned out to be both beautiful and useful, give hot thanks to everyone who came – including those who had to because they worked there – and am very grateful too to Rich Cline, for his lovely review which you can read HERE, but that's not much of a post, is it.
Poster suggestion subsequently vetoed by PR. "Faces sell more."
Yesterday I met Faren (not pictured) and her friends and colleagues in Trafalgar Square to join a human chain across Wesminster Bridge in support of the protests in Iran. October the 29th was also Cyrus the Great day, so I thought about researching him before writing this, then realised it probably wasn't that necessary, but I'll still research him after I've written this. I've got Larry Gonick's Cartoon History of the Universe open next to me right now.
Whitehall had been busy. The March of the Mums had made front pages earlier that day, and there was also a Ukrainian protest outside Downing Street, with which we ocassionally intermingled. "Down with tyrants." A lot of the chants were in English, but we were also taught "Azadi! Azadi! A-zad-i!" the Farsi word for freedom. And I finally learnt how to say Zan, Zendegi, Azadi, meaning Women, Life, Freedom – as taught to the people of Hastings by Omid Djalili here, and written across the Jason hockey masks of some protestors. Others hid their face behind David Lloyd's Guy Fawkes mask, now associated with Anonymous, possibly unaware of the seasonal appropriateness. Others still were dressed as zombie nuns, but I'm pretty sure they were just cutting through.
Our numbers grew as we walked down Whitehall, sometimes side by side and filling the road, sometimes holding hands in single file to form the human chain, (which I couldn't photograph without breaking of course). There hadn't seemed to be as many in Trafalgar Square as a month ago, but now we were on the move we were closing roads. This was my first march. Faren said she hadn't felt as safe as she'd have liked at the last one, because people had started shouting "Down with the BBC", believing the corporation hadn't been doing enough to support the protestors, or that reporting the deaths of students was bad for morale – meanwhile the very fact of Faren's employment by BBC Persian has seen her upgraded by the Iranian Government from spy to terrorist – but on this demonstration however, I only saw the one sign with the letters "BBC" dripping in blood, and Faren had her friends around her now. She seemed happy. She was loud. "I'm letting out a lot of anger." I realised I'd only been throwing my voice. Pretend shouting. Shy.
Posting some photographs of the protest on Instagram that evening, I wondered for the first time what my phone is actually up to when it says it's "finishing up" after the loading bar's filled, and I had flashbacks to Arthur Pewtey at the Marriage Guidance Counsellor. I don't really know how well I've fulfilled protestors' requests to "Be the Voice of Iran". But I know what I can do if it's okay with you, and that is to sign, and ask you to sign, THIS PETITION to whoever's Home Secretary when you read this: to drop an already twice rejected Public Order Bill that would make criminal offences of everything that happened yesterday – "interfering with key national infrastructure" for example – in other words, closing roads – and "locking on" – in other words, holding hands. If not for me, do it for Cyrus the Great.
No wonder that podium's always doing a double take.
I reached the end of yesterday wondering how I'd managed to get so little done given how little I currently have to do, and only realised with Liz Truss' resignation today how much time I've spent simply checking who's in charge.
To be fair to the Daily Mail, she lasted longer than an hour. She also lasted longer than Andrew Neil when he tried to launch a similarly naked culture war over on that GB News then left after two weeks. And how long will the Tories last? Sorry, I mean the Conservatives! I'm trying to stop using the T word, as I have a theory the way they've managed to stay in office for so long is by having two names: the "Tories", who soak up the bad news and the hate, and the "Conservatives" who actually appear on the ballot paper, name unsullied. We'll see if this works again. I've no idea when. Anyway hats off to the Daily Star's "Will Liz Truss last longer than this lettuce" live feed, a properly salient piece of journalism – Yes I know we all know about it, but this is an archive too. To whoever's reading this in years to come: Shush, I know political chaos is never a prelude to good news, but let me enjoy this. Right, the rain's just stopped, laptop closing, I'm off for a walk.
And yesterday footage went online of riot police joining an anti-Khamenei march. I must remember it's the absence of fear here that's so uplifiting, not the absence of danger. A week ago, a day earlier in the same day that the first student protestors were beaten and fired upon in the Sharif Univeristy in Tehran, my BBC Persian friend Faren shared an Iranian video of a white-haired badass turning heads on the tube by slapping the crap out of two men complaining about her uncovered head. Stills don't do the video justice. You can see it here. I asked Faren what the onlookers were saying at the end and learnt some
colloquial Farsi: "Pashmam" very loosely translates as, "Well, blow
me!" But its literal translation into English is: "My hair!"
I only finished reading Marianne Levy's Don't Forget To Scream on Monday so it's too early to say if it's changed my life, but I've definitely learnt something (beyond confirmation of a bias that polite society tragically underestimates how much people need looking after – you know, that bias). Specifically I've learnt that it won't matter if a book has words like "SCREAM" and "UNSPOKEN" on the front; if it also carries the word "MOTHERHOOD" that third will work like an aneasthetic against any content warning. (To try and mitigate this I've photographed the book on my most unpleasant table.) Like shouting for help in a language with no word for help, the very words used to describe "being a mum" have made protest impossible:
"Perhaps I'm being hyperbolic but it felt like the Newspeak from Nineteen Eighty-Four, designed to make wrongthink impossible."
Marianne writes this in a chapter called Bumbo. In a later chapter, Some Discomfort, having described what the
British Medical Journal terms the "wide range of physical and
psychological consequences" of her episiotomy, she concludes:
"I almost hit delete before this made it onto the page."
I remember these two chapters as a swift double punch in the gut, but leafing back I find they're nearly a hundred pages apart. Partly that suggests how readable she is, but also it suggests why her cry for help needs to be the size of a book; because what Marianne describes is a living nightmare, and she descibes it over and over again, because she has to, because we're – I can't find another word for it – programmed by mumthink not to listen... Or, if we do listen, to place what we hear on its own separate, cuddlier scale of oppression. Because "being a mum" is clearly the most laughably trivial subject there is.
"Our dining table was designed for four..."
Who are those Doctor Who monsters you forget as soon as you can't see them?
Ideally, this is what "red-pilling" should refer to... I'd even read Marianne's interview in The Guardian, from which the photograph below is taken, describing very
specifically what the book would contain, but still my mind was going: "Being a mum. Yeah. Crayons on flock wallpaper. Meh." And I know Marianne, a little, which is why I'm calling her Marianne, but look at that photo, look how cosy it is! It was only the interview's closing words which made me realise I might have missed something: “I’m desperate for men to read it; I’m desperate for people without kids
to read it.”
So I did, and I learnt something, and like any other sap who's had a veil lifted, I can't now think of anyone who shouldn't. Thanks therefore, Marianne, and congratulations.
10:04 – We begin not with the Q&A but an absolutely must-see promotional film. If you don't already know what Asgardia is this might not be the best introduction, so just to bring newcomers up to speed...
As first explained back in this post, the "dream driven space nation" is currently just a memory stick with its own national anthem, orbiting the Earth, whose "Head of Nation" and "Chairman of Parliament" –
former missile tycoon Doctor Igor Ashurbeyli, and former Liberal Democrat MP and
Cheeky Girl consort Lembit Öpik– are now keen to organize, among other
things, the first ever child born in zero gravity.
Obviously this enterprise raises some interesting questions, such as what might drive this new nation's economy? Well we now have an answer: Franchising! Really, the promo is quite something.
Now let's meet Opik...
12:04 - Q&A with the Chairman of Parliament begins! There's no sound. However it's hard to tell if anyone knows this. There's also no Chairman of Parliament.
None of these people is Lembit Opik.
13:39 – We have sound! But still no Chairman. It's not really clear if it's started. Some people are still trying to find the link.
15:29 – This flashes up for a second some reason:
...Which is fun.
15:30 – "Who's going to start the meeting?" Still no Chairman. Maybe Lembit missed the new time. There are Asgardians all around the world and it must be genuinely hard to arrange a globally convenient window: "This hour is not popular for many others." (By the way, despite it seeming to be the first language of absolutely noone pesent,
everyone is speaking English which is really appreciated.) Is it possible to contact Mr. Lembit? "A warning, maybe?"
16:21 – "Don't worry. We're going to send the security people to go and get him. Give me a minute," jokes an unseen "Aida M." It's all very good humoured. I don't wish to misrepresent this. Asgardian Mayoral candidate Ferda Inan suggests that migh have been an Agents of Shield reference, possibly for the record. More logging on. Everyone starts comparing their climates.
18:36 – Clearly unable to conact Lembit, the Chair of the Executive Committee Salvos Mouzakitis logs back on to get the ball rolling. (I've no idea what all these titles mean.) SESSION BEGINS!
Salvos really seems to know what he's talking about, so this all gets a bit harder to follow, but here are the topics covered:
18:45 – A hundred and forty four amendments to the Asgardian Constitution have been proposed at a recent summit of the "Supreme Space Council". No amendment was rejected on the grounds of not being liked it, only if it were deemed "non-constitutional". Salvos praises the professional focus of the four members of the Supreme Space Council who turned up – ("I didn't expect it, to be honest") – but he doesn't have the results of their vote because he's on holiday.
23:24 – There is to be a meeting of the Asgardian Legislative Forum on the twenty sixth. Salvos will attempt to participate again, at least in part, but he is still meant to be out of office, and is really beginning to piss off his wife. "I am in danger, real danger that my wife will divorce me," and his wife is a lawyer. Among topics up for discussion at the forum will be the decentralisation of Asgardia, as the franchising plan has hit a snag it seems: Apparently China is turning out knock-offs. 25:00 – That's really all Salvos can bring to the table right now, as Lembit still hasn't shown up and he hadn't prepared to chair this meeting, so the floor is given to Ferda Inan.
25:28 – Ferda was hoping for more gossip. Salvos says he wants to wait for Lembit. Ferda has no more questions and returns the floor to Salvos. "Thank you."
26:29 – Chair of the Foreign Affairs Committee Seref Kaplan has a question: Can we have subtitles? Salvos segues onto the topic of the translations, in particular the – understandably stretched – but
sloppy translations being provided in the lead up to Asgardia's
forthcoming constitutional elections. To further complicate matters, mistakes have been spotted in the English originals, "Head of Government" and "Head of Nation" being used interchangeably, for example, when these are entirely separate pillars of Asgardian Government, and differentiating between them will prove vital if the Asgardian electorate is to determine what either of them eventually
mean.
An announcement is expected from Lembit when the first Asgardian books are to be appear.
A succesful Persian translation of the Asgardian consitution has now been completed by "Navid".
31:08 – Tax law. Salvos is personally not in favour of Asgardian taxes as Asgardians aleady pay taxes in their native countries (and presumably because Asgardia doesn't actually do anything yet – also isn't there a joining fee?) If there are to be taxes however, Salvos prefers taxing gross profit rover net because it's less work.
33:43 – Once Asgardia leaves zoom and physical sittings resume, "Fernando" has proposed rotating the countries in which these take place. Salvos loves travelling, but of course there are visa considerations and also not everyone can afford it. Basic stuff, cooly considered.
35:20 – Fernando has also suggested the Asgardian website could be improved.
36:20 – MP Bridget. She proposes Canada for a physical sitting: "They tend to have much lower standards from what I'm aware of as far as entry into their nation." I'm guessing Bridget's from America, although from my own personal gap year experiences I can tell you she's not wrong.
She also suggests free language classes as a perk for Asgardian residents. Apparently there are plans afoot for an official Asgardian Academy.
39:22 – Seref has the floor again. He has uploaded a Turkish translation of the constitution to the website, but just wants everyone to know it's not a translation of the most recent version. Seref is very on board with Bridget's free langauage class idea. They could might a real draw. Or even just a separate enterprise, open to non-residents. He also proposes Turkey for the physical sittings, especially if it's off season.
44:45 – Salvos expresses doubts about how easy it will be to get a lecturer to give regular language classes for free, but would love to go to Istanbul.
47:33 – Ferda again. Apparently nobody should worry about how the Academy will be funded, and volunteers are welcome to upload educational videos to it. Salvos suggests preparing a promotional intro: "Make it nice." (Was Ferda behind the Asgardian promo?) Ferda: "Done already." Salvos: "Really? Great!" Ferda: "Why not?" I couldn't hear the topic chosen for the Academy's first lecture. Visas?
50:35 – Aida M has the floor: Not all countries have the internet. Could these classes be put onto a video or CD and posted out? Also not all countries speak English. Also either you've got to pay people or not. Also Aida has been asking for a while for sign language translations.
53:26 – Aida still has the floor but this has flashed up for a couple of seconds:
Some absolute crackers there.
53:50 – Salvos supports Aida's proposal and recognises how vital accessibility must be for the Asgardian
project to succeed. However, he points out there are as many different
sign langauges as there are spoken languages. "That's going to be a problem."
56:15 – Ferda says that sign languages aren't actually too varied. It's more like an accent thing.
58:30 – Aida says you have to start somewhere. There seems a general consensus then that "English" sign language will be something to look at. (The inverted commas are my own because I'm not sure British and American Sign languages are the same.) Salvos will bring this up with Lembit.
59:40 – Apparently there's a lot of talk happening in the chat about going to Canada. Salvos does not necessarily support it. I get the impression he's spent quite a lot more time on here than he meant to. Session ends. "Adios, amigos."
Lembit remained a no show, but two days later recorded the video at the top of this post.
Honestly, I was just curious what people's first instinct is when putting on a glove puppet – I'm talking about the Emu-like variety, whose muzzle requires a whole hand, not the Sooty-like, arm-waving variety – because mine has always been to have the puppet turn towards me first of all, then face the front and open its mouth like it's going "wow", and I wondered if this was a universal instinct, or if some people immediately went crazy and started chewing the air with it, and what might this say about people, so I was looking for an image, or short clip, to accompany this question, and I had vague memory of a puppet show called Pipkins, whose unorthodox look might fit the bill, and I looked it up and found this, but it is cursed, so do not watch it. The Ancient Greeks had a word with no English equivalent, meaning crime, or sin, or pollution or stain, but I can't remember what is, just please do not watch this. Please do – if you like – post in the comments what your first instinct is when donning a beaked glove puppet, because I'm genuinely interested. But please do not ask where this show is meant to take place, or in what, or who furnished whatever it is, or what lesson it's trying to teach, or why Hartley Hare has those Donald Trump reverse eye shadows, or what... or what... or what the puppets are even made of... because that would mean you had watched the video. And you must not watch the video.
What is this? Is this "Folk Horror"?
But it's in a city. Is it in a city?
Don't answer. Don't watch it.
(Post Script: Once my spirit had recovered, I researched the career of long-suffering presenter Wayne Laryea, and learnt he hosted another kid's show called Zig Zag which I also vaguely remember. I looked that up, but the first clip I found was from a... Canadian?... show with the same name, which is, remarkably, even more mind-scouringly whatever-that-Greek-word-means than Pipkins. So PLEASE just answer the nice question about puppets and DO NOT WATCH THIS EITHER!)
These are just random phrases, right?
I finally got round to downloading the Duolingo app in case I suddenly decide to emigrate. I'm learning French, Spanish, Japanese and Welsh. And I was in fact planning on getting an earlier night tonight, but then I put this on...
... and it made me realise my own balcony could do with a bit of a clean, but when I went to the cupboard under the stairs to look for a tea light to put in the little tea light geenhouse I found the flat had a slinky, which was exciting so -
From "Merry Andrew" (1958). Not everyone got the memo about driving on the left.
You could of course argue all words are "made-up", but I wouldn't. I know too little about it, but I'm pretty sure the first language was a form of accounting, hence "subject verbs object". Language's first purpose was to describe interactions, not transmit the experience of solitude, which might explain why we're so often having to resort to the word "weird" when describing our current isolation. In other words, don't feel too bad about it.
Anyway, yes, made-up words: In today's episode of A Journal of the Plague Year posted below, Defoe's narrator fulminates against the selling of charms bearing the word "Abracadabra", which led me to investigate whether or not this was the word's earliest appearance in literature. In fact, its first recorded appearance is in the second century during the reign of Nero. However, nobody knew even then what it meant, only that one should tie it in a ribbon, and hang it round one's neck, preferably using the "lard of a lion".
Which brings me, naturally, to the Steve Miller Band.
"Abra... Abra...cadabra... I wanna reach out and grab ya," they sang in 1982, so I don't know, maybe Rock 'n' Roll will die, but certainly, it gives no further clue as to what the word meant (although there is a lotgoing on in the video), but I remembered that the Steve Miller Band had quite a history with made-up words: Their 1973 hit The Joker sung of "the pompatus of love", so I decided to research the origin of that word instead and, uh, yeah, I hit gold. Horrible gold. According to Jon Cryer, star of the 1995 comedy The Pompatus of Love, the word is actually a corruption of a misheard Vernon Green lyric: "puppetutes of love", and puppetutes are... well, they're puppet prostitutes. So I learnt that today. Defoe talks however of the disappearance of "merry andrews" from the streets of London, and that's allowed me to sweeten today's post with the song at the top. I love Danny Kaye. Subject verbs object. Hope you're all tickety-boo. Here's episode 3:
I've also been considering how much I may have overestimated people's desire to communicate with each other in general – or rather, be communicated to – and underestimated how much they might just rather be left to their own opinions, unruffled by information from other people, aliens, or pets. Here are some photographs of a man trying to teach a horse to count: Wilhelm Van Osten, whose work in the 1890's on or with "Clever Hans" spanned a number of moustaches...
